


if the world was ending (you'd come over, right?)

by alltheworldsinmyhead



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, Dom/sub Undertones, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gendrya - Freeform, POV Alternating, Post-Break Up, duh - Freeform, porn with (a bit of a) plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:27:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25096084
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alltheworldsinmyhead/pseuds/alltheworldsinmyhead
Summary: ''It’s been a year now and he still misses her, misses her too passionately to deny it. He lives his life, goes through motions automatically and everything tastes bland and flavorless in his mouth. And he continues to miss her, every day, every moment, like a man drowning. ''
Relationships: Arya Stark/Gendry Waters
Comments: 95
Kudos: 254





	if the world was ending (you'd come over, right?)

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, guys! I chose to break my dry period of inactivity with a juicy post-break up smut.  
> It's - just a tiny bit more than pwp, truth to be told, but it gets terribly sappy by the end :D:D  
> Hope that you'll enjoy ;)
> 
> As always, biggest kisses to the one the only and the best Yana for being the most wonderful writing buddy and giving me a confidence boost when I really needed it. Thank you, love<3

> _“I come here with no expectations, only to profess, now that I am at liberty to do so, that my heart is and always will be...yours.”_
> 
> _― Jane Austen, Sense and Sensibility_

* * *

Gendry wakes up on a rainy March morning with phantom pain in his chest and the vague memory of the pleasant dream slipping from in-between his fingers.

It’s already more than hazy and he can barely recall its plot, if it even had any – but that doesn’t matter anyway, cause his brain remembers other things, the things it can use to fill the gaps and torture him. He does not need any details to know who he was dreaming about.

 _I miss fighting with her.-_ crosses his mind before he can stop the thought from formulating.

He does miss the fighting, as sick as it sounds. The screaming, the slamming door, all because she was jealous and he was possessive, and neither of them felt they are good enough for the other one. Her lips and teeth on him and the way she would push him on the bed and crawl on top of him, determined to win the argument one way or another.

And how he would easily roll them over and cover her body with his, pounding into her until all the rage between them quieted down, transforming into sweetness, and moans, and wet kisses, and her fingers in his hair.

The laughter afterward, light and warm like a summer breeze.

With a groan, Gendry presses his face to the pillow. The alarm clock rings relentlessly, but he makes no move to hit the snooze button. Let it ring.

There’s no one else it would wake up anyway.

*

Arya wakes up on Friday with her throat dry and cheeks wet.

For a moment or two, she’s just laying still, listening to the raindrops splattering on the skylight above her bed, counting the seconds down in her head.

_One, two, three, four._

_Fuck, just leave, okay? Go away and don’t come back, I don’t want to see you ever again._

At times like this, she wishes she didn’t move out of Jon’s, didn’t insist that she needs her own place. She misses hearing all those small, mundane sounds that signify somebody’s presence; the flushing toilet, the clattering pots, the sharp _ping_ of the microwave. In silence, her mind works against her and supplies the sounds by itself.

  
With her eyes closed, she can almost hear his loud, heavy steps in the kitchen - the ones she was listening to countless of times while laying curled in the bed, still warm and sleepy and comfy, waiting for him to make himself a cup of coffee and come back to her. Letting him wake her up with his hands and his lips, with his smell and his low, warm voice. 

With a sigh, she sits down on the mattress and pushes the covers off her legs, instantly shivering when the cold morning air attacks her exposed skin. When she pads towards the bathroom, her steps are nearly soundless on the floor, drowned out by the falling rain.

*

A few months back when he was promoted to the Production Manager, Gendry sat on the office chair in his own office and spun around, basking in the new reality where he successfully escaped hellish heat of the welding hall.

But today, he finds himself missing the loudness, the smell of hot metal, the mask on his face. With his nose in the pile of papers and the numbers swimming in front of his eyes, he desperately yearns for any kind of distraction from the persistent, dull ache under his sternum, even though it makes him feel pathetic to need it at all.

It’s been a year now. Wasn’t he supposed to get over his ex by this point?

Maybe he should really take Beric’s advice and start dating again. Lem’s advice – fucking his feelings away with random eager girls from the Peach, all blonde and curvy and _wrong –_ did not much besides making him feel sick, so maybe a new relationship would be a better option. There was always Jeyne. She wouldn’t say no, if he asked her out. They could go to this new Sothorosi place, order a bottle of wine-

And he would be sitting in front of her and smiling and wishing she was shorter and had a glass full of whiskey in her hand instead.

That would be hardly fair to Jeyne, or any other woman he would try to date.

It’s been a year now and he still misses her, misses her too passionately to deny it. He lives his life, goes through motions automatically and everything tastes bland and flavorless in his mouth. And he continues to miss her, every day, every moment like a man drowning.

Halfway through the day, his phone rings and Gendry manages to feel just the tiniest bit of excitement (he’ll take any distraction, really, _what a fucked-up day)_ before the caller ID makes him grin.

‘’Hi, Davos.’’

‘’Hello, lad. How are you doing?’’

*

The music swells in the empty room, making the air sizzle and tremble as Arya spins in the never-ending series of _fouettes_ – long enough, that she starts to feel dizzy.

It’s been a shit day, truth to be told.

The rain soaked her completely during her morning walk. Then she did not manage to catch the bus on time and ended up sprinting to the House, late and wet, facing pissed-off Jaquen and self-satisfied, grinning Wif at the door.

And then she messed up during the rehearsal. Repeatedly.

She felt clammy, overheated; her body stiff and uncoordinated, no matter how long she tried to stretch it out. There was something hanging in the air that made it hard to catch a breath.

When she asked Jaquen if she can stay a bit longer to practice her part, he just clicked his tongue and tossed her keys, eyeing her as if she was not worth more than the dirt on his shoes- and the fact that it almost made her tear up was a testament of her inner imbalance. Even when she was twelve and sucked so hard that Syrio Forell could literally spend the whole practice correcting her posture, she did not cry at the face of critique, not even once.

So here she is now, practicing pirouettes until she’s about to vomit and it does absolutely nothing to calm her mind. Which drives her crazy, honestly. This blissful blankness of the dancing mindscape seem entirely out of her reach for some reason-

The reason probably having a lot to do with her ex.

With an irritated huff, she gracelessly trips and stumbles, falling out of the position. Somehow, it looks even more jarring when it’s reflected in the huge mirrors as she’s alone in the room, no accompanist, no director, no other dancers. Just Arya, messing up again, the way she messed up the only good shot at being happy in a relationship she has ever had.

_Okay, that’s it. Enough for today._

Under the shower in the changing room, she promises herself a nice, self-care weekend; nothing but shitty reality tv about rich Australian mothers on Netflix and bowls upon bowls of popcorn with salt and melted butter. She’ll do this yoga set Sansa has been singing rave reviews about and finally decide on the dog to adopt from the shelter. Sugar, spice and everything nice. She’ll even find the proper batteries for her vibrator and fuck all the thoughts of her ex from her head. Just peachy.

Having decided that, she feels a bit lighter, the knot in her stomach dissolving slightly. Maybe she should also call Jon? He should have some free time on Saturday if she manages to stay up long enough to catch him…

Her hair-drying thought process is interrupted by the shrill, piercing sound of her ringtone, loud enough that it’s irritating even muffed by the material of her duffle bag. The caller ID makes her furrow her brow. She picks up, watching how the drops of water drip from the end of her hair to the ground.

‘’Hi, Ned, what’s up? Haven’t we seen each other like an hour ago?’’

‘’Two hours actually. Listen, Arya, you looked pretty down today. Maybe you’d like to grab a drink tonight?’’

*

He arrives at the Sealord’s Palace at half-past eight, anxiously tugging on the tight collar of his shirt and trying to discretely shake the rainwater from his hair. Why the fuck did Davos and Marya choose such a nice place was beyond him – as far as he knew, they preferred far simpler venues. With less rich bastards and forks, and more beer and greasy onion rings instead.

But yeah, Davos mentioned they are going to celebrate something, so Gendry is not going to be a jerk and complain about having to wear a nice shirt and pants. Sometimes he thinks he’ll never get used to having a white-collared job and being an actual, quote-unquote, respected member of the society.

Marya’s brown eyes lit up when she sees him and Gendry cannot help but grin at that. He remembers how he felt at sixteen, seated on the table, and given a whole plate of lasagna for himself for the very first time in his life. Marya was sitting in front of him in silence, the kindest kind of smile painted on her otherwise plain face and making it look like the statue of Mother. At that time, his mum has been dead for the majority of his life and the years of shitty foster homes hardened him like a stone – but he still felt the urge to cry at that moment, in that cramped kitchen.

After he finished eating, she gave him the second serving despite his protests and send him to the bed made with the worn-out sheets smelling like the laundry detergent. He fell asleep with his nose buried in his pillow that night.

So yes, when Marya opens her arms, Gendry wraps his own around her, no hesitation.

*

For the second time today, she’s late.

Late and annoyed – Ned did not choose the fanciest venue in the city, but maybe the third or the fourth fanciest one, which required her to actually make an effort while dressing up. She doesn’t even know why she agreed to meet him. Maybe because he was kind and friendly, and really had the best intentions, and Arya just couldn’t find it in herself to refuse him or make up any shitty excuses. Maybe because the thought of spending yet another evening in her apartment alone filled her with a vague sense of dread. Maybe because – and she admitted that to herself in front of the bathroom mirror, looking at her tired, sad reflection – she just felt unbearably lonely today and needed a company of someone who genuinely liked her.

Regardless of the reason, she found herself consulting Sansa on the suitable jewelry and ordering an Uber, and now she’s late because of the insane traffic jam on the King’s Road.

She lifts the hem of her dress to not dip it into the rainwater puddles on her way to the door and sighs involuntarily at the sight of Ned’s blond hair under the purple umbrella.

_He would always forget about the umbrella. Would cover his head with a jacket like an idiot instead._

‘’Whoa, Arya. You look so nice. Not that you don’t look pretty every day, of course.’’ Ned opens the door for her and she rolls her eyes.

‘’Stop buttering me up, Dayne.’’

‘’Only speaking the truth.’’ Ned beams at her, before reaching for her coat. ‘’Why don’t you go and sit comfortably? I’ll just take these to the cloakroom.’’

*

The food is delicious. Not as delicious as Marya’s cooking, of course- and Gendry does not hesitate to tell her that – but pretty darn close, even if the spices burn the roof of his mouth. Plus, the portions are surprisingly sizable for such an uptown place. Gendry cheers when Davos announces that, due to his fat retirement bonus for three decades at his company, he and Marya are going to spend the next year enjoying the delights of the Summer Islands. They click wine glasses and alcohol flows as freely as the conversation.

At some point, though, the couple starts to good-heartedly bicker about something domestic, and Gendry’s eyes start to wander.

It’s rather mindless until he sees a flash of red – so unexpected in the sea of creams and black and whites, that his eyes immediately began to follow it. From in-between the columns on the left side of the room, a small figure emerges, following the waiter. Her scarlet dress swirls and dances in-between ankles and there is something about the way she moves that captures his attention; something about how she gracefully takes every step and keeps her back perfectly straight, something about the way her long ponytail swings and the familiar shape of her breasts visible in the deep V of her gown-

_Fuck me._

He cannot breathe, cannot think, cannot even hear anything Davos is saying.

Because Arya Stark stops in the middle of the room and her silver eyes widen into perfect circles at the sight of him. She has the red dress on, the one she wore to Robb’s wedding, the one he took off her with his teeth in his car on the parking lot.

She’s everything that he remembers her to be and more, so much more.

*

She cannot believe her own eyes.

_Gendry._

Gendry, sitting at the table at The Sealord’s Palace, of all places, even though he’s not even close to being a fan of fancy restaurants _or_ Braavosi cuisine.

Gendry, in nice dark slacks and with the sleeves of his white shirt rolled up in an unruly manner that would make Arya’s mother wince.

Gendry, his thick black hair, and the strong line of his jaw that she used to trace with her tongue. Gendry, those magical eyes of his widened at the sight of her.

Gendry, Gendry, Gendry, her first love, her first time, her first everything.

She’s fighting with the sudden urge to laugh. This could be expected, really. King’s Landing is a big city, but they were bound it pass each other anyway. She and Gendry – they could always find a way back to one another, somehow, as if gods’ hands were pushing them closer like figurines on the board.

*

He doesn’t know if he wants her to come closer and say hi or not, but he kinda wants to know what she decides on. Unfortunately, he won’t get to as _fucking Ned Dayne_ appears out of _fucking thin air_ and has the _fucking audacity_ to put his hand on Arya’s shoulder, making her turn her head towards him.

Gendry doesn’t even notice that the conversation dies down at his table until he hears how Davos clears his throat loudly.

‘’Well, boy.’’ He reaches for the wine bottle and pours some more into Gendry’s glass. ‘’I guess there’s no point in asking if you’re over her, aye?’’

In the corner of his eye, Gendry still sees Arya standing in-between tables, talking to Ned. Her hands are flying in the air; she always gesticulates too much when she’s nervous.

Instead of answering, he takes one big sip of alcohol, not even tasting it.

Ned nods slowly, glancing at Gendry quickly before nodding once more. His hand slides from the curve of her shoulder down to her elbow and they turn around and begin to make their way out of the room.

Arya’s ponytail is swinging in-between her sharp shoulder blades.

She looks like a swan, like a wolf, like a beast; beautiful and dangerous, and he cannot tear his eyes away from her.

‘’We should probably get going now.’’ Marya sounds soft, sweet; she puts one hand on top of Gendry’s and squeezes it. ‘’You’re welcome to drop by before we depart, darling.’’

And Gendry feels like the biggest asshole in the world, but he does not much else besides assuring her that _yes, of course, he will visit, he will call them, he just has- something to do now, please excuse him_ , before yanking his jacket from the chair and following his ex-girlfriend like the pathetic case he is.

*

‘’Arya!’’

It’s been months since she has last heard this voice saying her name, calling her. And it still makes her heart flutter in her chest. It still makes her lose her balance.

It still hurts.

‘’Arya, wait!’’

She forces herself to smile apologetically to Ned, just as the taxi stops next to them.

‘’I’m sorry, but-‘’

‘’You want to stay and talk to him, right?’’ they’re standing so close to each other under the umbrella that it’s impossible for her not to notice how resigned he sounds. ‘’That’s fine, Arya. We’ll see each other some other time.’’

‘’Some other time.’’ She parrot.

She tries to give him the handle of the umbrella, but he shakes his head, slipping into the car.

‘’Keep it. It’s raining pretty heavily.’’ He sends her one more glance - and although his purple eyes shine like jewels, Arya’s breath does not catch. ‘’Bye, Arya.’’

‘’Bye, Ned.’’ She whispers.

The car is quickly gone, swallowed by the river of the identical golden taxies painted dark by the night, spotted with red and green by the traffic lights.

And Arya stays still under the umbrella for a heartbeat of two, still like a statue, before she slowly turns around to face Gendry.

He’s standing right behind her, but well, she knew that already, didn’t she?

His hair is plastered to his forehead and his shirt is so wet that it has turned translucent, but she somehow doubts that the slight shiver that runs through his body when she steps closer to him has anything to do with the weather.

Water made his eyelashes stick together.

‘’Hi.’’ They both utter at the same time; unsure and awkward, and in awe.

Gods, she has always loved his eyes.

*

He drinks her in; the stay hairs around her face and the faint shadows of freckles dusting the bridge of her nose. The line of her bare neck. The glint of pearl earrings in her ears. It’s crazy how much he missed that – just standing in front of Arya and looking at her.

Her lower lip disappears between her teeth and he shivers again.

‘’Did you have dinner with Davos and Marya?’’ she asks.

‘’Yeah. He, uhm, he’s retiring. They’re going to Summer Isles for vacation.’’

‘’Ah. That’s nice.’’

‘’Yeah. And you and Ned? Just a dinner – you know, you don’t have to answer, it’s not my business-‘’

_Just shut your big, fat mouth, Waters, will you_

‘’Just a dinner.’’ She answers too quickly, interrupting his rambling. Her freckles are coated with the pinkness of her blush now. ‘’I didn’t want to spend the Friday night alone.’’

‘’Oh.’’ He’s left with nothing else to say. A wave of relief crashes over him, making him sick at the sensation. It should not concern him, whether or not Ned and Arya are together now. Ned is a good guy, even Gendry can’t be as biased as to say he isn’t.

But still.

‘’Are you still living on the Steel Street?’’ she steps a bit closer; he would be under her umbrella if only he lowered his head a bit.

‘’No.’’ It felt too pathetic to sleep in the bed where they made love, dreaming of her, and Gendry refused to sink to such level. ‘’No, I live close by now, actually. Blackwater’s Square.’’

A thousand different emotions flash in her eyes before she bites on her lower lip delicately.

‘’I can walk you home, maybe?’’

*

_Dum-dum_

She hands him the umbrella.

_Dum-dum_

They walk side-by-side, effortlessly; her quicker pace matched evenly with his longer stride.

_Dum-dum_

There is silence between them. And while in the past, they never had any problems to exist in it happily, never needed any unnecessary words to fill it, now Arya feels the strange energy buzzing in the air.

She wishes he would say something.

She just doesn’t know what.

_Dum-dum._

Why did she ask him to walk him home? Is she fourteen again, with braces and a crush?

_Why did he agree?_

_Dum-dum_

The drumming song of her heart almost drowns out the sound of the rain splattering on Ned’s umbrella.

He’s so close. So close, that the space between their bodies almost seems to sizzle. Her hands are itching to touch him. Suddenly, against her best intention, she starts to wonder how many times they walked in the rain together, him walking her home, her walking him to work, them going to their flat together. How many times she would strip him from his cold, wet shirts in their kitchen and kiss him until his lips turned from blue to pink again. How many times he would lick the warm, summer rain from her skin, kiss melted snowflakes from her cheeks.

‘’Arya.’’ She has to blink a few times to escape from the memory lane when he says her name quietly. When she looks up, she notices how white are the knuckles of his hand locked on the umbrella’s handle. ‘’I’m sorry.’’

She almost stumbles on her feet and falls face-down on the pavement.

‘’What?’’ she croaks.

‘’I’m sorry,’’ He repeats, slowly, deliberately. ‘’For what I said. Back in December.’’

_Oh sorry, milady high. I guess I’ve always been your little pet project, right? You’re so fucking stuck-up. At least your mother doesn’t pretend not to be. You know, if you didn’t have every single fucking thing handed to you, maybe you could understand!_

Sometimes, she’s lying in bed at 3 a.m., staring at the ceiling with her eyes wide opened and recalls his words over and over again, playing them on repeat until they transform into a dull ache that makes her chest tighten and her lip quiver.

‘’It was not true. And I didn’t – I did not think it was true. Even then.’’

But there are some other words that haunt her too.

_Well, I’m sorry that I care! But you know what, maybe my mom is right. It’s pathetic, fucking pathetic how you prefer to stay stuck in your shitty life instead of doing anything to change it. Oh, it’s not your fault. Poor you! Your father didn’t love you. You and your fucking daddy issues, and your fucking pride, I’m sick of it all. Just admit, you like it. You like the fact that you can just wallow in self-pity endlessly and act as if it made you better than me and my family!_

Hot shame twists in her stomach.

‘’I’m sorry too, Gendry.’’ She replies, forcing herself to raise her chin to look into his eyes. ‘’I- We both fucked up. I did not mean any of the things I said either.’’

‘’But we said those things anyway.’’ Gendry sounds hollow and she cannot bear it, cannot do anything else but lower her eyes to the wet pavement, batting her eyelashes to keep her tears at bay.

The truth is, when you know somebody so well and love somebody so deeply, you know exactly where to stab and how to twist to hurt the most. He’s right. No matter how she feels about him, how she _still_ feels about him… they said those all things and more.

He fucked her against the door before he left. Or rather, they fucked each other against the door.

And maybe that was the straw that broke the camel’s back, to have something which was always so sacred and holy and perfect between them twisted by hate and desperation into something absolutely worthless.

‘’I don’t even remember what we were fighting about, you know?’’

‘’Me neither.’’

The same things, always. Her trust fund and his loans, her inheritance and his debts, money, money, always money. It feels very stupid and meaningless now when she's thinking about it. 

_But we are not meaningless._

Her eyes slide up the lines of his body, taking him in.

_We were never meaningless._

‘’We cannot change the past.’’ Her hand raises slowly until it rests on top of his on the umbrella handle. ‘’But – Gendry, if you said we don’t have any unfinished business between us, you would be lying, and you know it as well as I do.’’

He stops abruptly.

She watches how his jaw clenches and unclenches, how his Adam’s apple bobs up and down, how his brow furrows. He takes his time thinking and she allows him for it. They are alone on the street; when she catches their reflection on the shop’s window, they seem like the only real, living thing present, the rest of the world washed away by the rain.

‘’Yeah.’’ He says finally, softer than she though him possible to sound. ‘’You’re right.’’

He turns around slightly to face her and his other hand reaches for hers.

Warmth blooms inside her like a sunflower, sudden, and almost painful. Their fingers rearrange, lacing seamlessly.

‘’Do you wanna come over?’’ he asks and-

_Dum-dum_

Electricity dancing in the air, her skin itching whenever he looks at her.

‘’Yes.’’

*

He has his hands on her before the door even closes shut.

And she’s not surprised, because how could she be? Isn’t that what they both were thinking about, the whole way there?

She’s one the brink of crying from the toe-curling bliss of being held by Gendry, being kissed by Gendry, _oh gods_ , the only man who could ever match her pace, the only man who could make her feel like that.

To touch him, after all this time, is a waterfall of relief- it’s a soft bed after a long day, hot shower after hard training, Nymeria’s wet nose nuzzling against her thigh. All those things and more.

But he’s restraining himself and she knows it; keeps his hands on her hips and lower back, keep his mouth gentle. It’s not enough. Not nearly enough. And so she whines, pressing wet, open-mouthed kisses and licking down his neck the way he used to love:

‘’Stop – stop holding back.’’ Her hand slips in-between their bodies to palm his cock through the material of his pants and he growls against her ear. ‘’Fuck, Gendry, I need you to-‘’

Before she can finish talking, he grabs the back of her thighs and hoists her up, walking through the apartment while keeping her silent with his lips until he unceremoniously drops her on his bed and covers her body with his. She doesn’t even get a second to catch her breath before he’s spreading her legs wide, rutting his hips against her to make her wriggle and moan.

‘’What do you need, Arya? What do you need me to do to you?’’ his voice is low and rough and _fuck_ , perfect, so perfect, and she could get off on this alone, on listening to how he talks to her all hot and aroused.

Her fingers are itching to touch his cock pressed against her belly, but before she can reach down, Gendry sizes her wrists and pins them roughly above her head, easily keeping her in place. The room is spinning in front of her eyes; he bits in the crook of her neck hard enough to bruise and her eyelids flutter close.

‘’What do you want me to do, Arya?’’ he repeats, but she’s afraid she’ll choke on her tongue if she says anything, so she just moans loudly, her hips lifting off the mattress in search of the friction.

He chuckles and her heart stutters painfully. _We’ve been here before._

They’ve been, truly; different bed, different apartment, but the same Gendry - and she supposes she was the same too.

Only happier.

With his free hand, he pulls the neckline of her dress down, harshly reaching into the cup of her bra for her breast. He doesn’t lower his mouth to it though, even though her whole skin tingles for him to do just that; he kinda just brushes her hardened nipple with his thumb, coaxing breathless whines out of her throat. His fingers tighten against her wrists and _gods,_ she wants nothing else but to have those fingers around her throat and his cock filling her, getting rid of the emptiness that steals her sleep, making everything right again.

‘’Do you want me to fuck you?’’ he asks softly, softer than anything else about him. When she opens her eyes, they meet his and she wonders how she must look like; lying flat on his bed with messed-up up-do, blushed and wet, and burning for him.

But two can play that game.

And she knows she’s not the only one on fire.

She arches her back slowly, pushing her breast into his palm, and planting her feet on the mattress for better leverage.

‘’Don’t _you_ want to-’’ she asks, sweet as honey, arching again to let him see her bared throat, letting her cunt slowly brush against his cock, rutting her hips against his over and over again. ‘’-fuck me?’’

Once again, the question is barely out of her lips before he leans down to kiss her roughly. He squeezes her breast and lets go of her hands so that he can grab her hip to still it, and so she’s free to bury her fingers in his hair. She missed how it feels, how soft it is, how Gendry moans when she tugs on the unruly strands.

The truth is, even when nothing between them worked at all, this was the only thing that kept them tethered to each other.

Gendry has always been an awfully good lay. Could always tell her far more with his touch than with his words.

And never failed to make her adored, to please and satisfy her beyond her wildest imagination.

Suddenly, his mouth disappears and, along with it, the weight of his body atop hers. When she glances up at him, he’s standing by the edge of the bed, towering above her and breathing heavily.

‘’Get up.’’ He barks, and she slides off the mattress before she can consider disobeying. She feels so hazy that she can barely register anything else besides the familiarity of his hands on her

He turns them around and sits back down, making her stand between his spread knees. He’s just a few inches taller like that, perfect height for him to caress the side of her neck and pull her for just one long, sweet kiss.

But then the bastard leans back on his elbows and smirks, tugging delicately on the loose material of her skirt.

‘’Take this off for me, darling.’’

She wonders if he actually knows how he just called her, or it just slipped from his mouth instinctively, natural like breathing.

She has always been his darling in bed.

And they’ve always been so, so in love.

That’s what Arya is thinking about, as she brushes her hair from her shoulders and hums some tune softly, swaying her hips to the rhythm. She pulls the zipper down and recalls all the times when she got drunk and Gendry carried her home and put her to bed. She lets the dress fall to the floor and counts how many shirts she has stolen from him and discarded as soon as they stopped smelling like him. She undoes the clasps of her bra and watches how his eyes turn darker and darker.

 _I’ve never stopped loving you, Gendry._ – she helplessly admits to herself after she hooked both thumbs under the band of her panties and slowly slid it down her hips, down her thighs, down her calves; after she gracefully stepped out of them and straightened in front of him. Bare and aching, and tired of pretending. _And I know you still love me too._

Because a man who doesn’t love her would never look at her like that.

His eyes would not shine like this.

‘’Come here.’’ He pats his things and playfully slaps her ass as she settles on his lap. She makes a move to unbutton his shirt, but manages to pop maybe only one or two open before he seizes her wrists again, pulling her hands away.

‘’No, Arya.’’ He whispers and she wishes it wasn’t all so easy, so familiar, to slip back into this dynamic. The easiness is the worst; it makes her want to cry.

She can feel how he drinks in her expression when he maneuvers her arms behind her back and restrains her hands with his own – her quickening breath, her wild eyes. She’s swaying her hips again, rubbing against his thigh and probably staining his nice slacks, but he doesn’t seem to care at all.

‘’Good girl.’’ He murmurs, pressing a chaste kiss to her cheek.

‘’Such a good girl.’’ There goes another behind her ear and one more under her jaw, a whole string on them on her shoulder, across her collarbone. 

‘’You are so hot like that Arya, so pretty.’’ His lips are burning and wet on her sternum, and she knew full well it was coming, has braced herself for it-

and still, when he bites on her nipple harder than he would’ve when they were still together and starts to suck on it, she can do nothing but throw her head back and whimper, sharp pain and pleasure making her whole body tingle head-to-toe.

‘’Gods, Gendry.’’ She moans his name over and over again, and can barely hear herself over the humming of blood in her ears.

He releases her nipple with a wet, lewd sound and moves to the other one. She would’ve thought her trembling and mewling does not affect him if it wasn’t for the way he grips her wrists and waist, if not for the delicious hardness of him between her legs. He’s sucking so hard that he almost hollows his cheeks, his tongue massaging her nipple, and she’s just fighting desperately not to close her eyes.

She wants to imprint this sight on her brain, burn it with iron for long, lonely nights; his blushed face and long eyelashes, his mouth closed around her tit. _Goods gracious_ , _how could I ever move on to someone else when nobody has ever touched me quite the right way, nobody but Gendry?_

By the time he’s done with her breasts, both of them are barely catching their breath. He looks up at her and she lowers her head to rest her forehead against his.

‘’Hi.’’ He whispers sweetly and she giggles.

‘’Hi.’’

‘’Are you enjoying yourself?’’

‘’You know I am.’’ She brushes her nose against his, wishing he released her hands so she could swipe the sweaty strands of hair away from his face.

He grins in response. Any other man would look cocky; Gendry just looks like he’s having the fucking time of his life.

‘’Well, wanted to make sure anyway.’’

Suddenly, he bounces his leg, making her jump slightly up and back down on his thigh, barely managing to bite on her lip to keep the loud moan from escaping her lips.

‘’I am having a _terrific_ time.’’ She lets out through clenched teeth and thrusts her hips forwards to rub her clit against stiff material, already damp from her wetness. ‘’It would be even better if you let me put my mouth to some use, though.’’

He groans, lowering his head to bite on the shell of her ear delicately.

And then he whispers, his voice making the blood boil in her veins:

‘’If you want it so much, beg for it, darling.’’ He lets go of her hands and leans back slightly, the smirk painted on his handsome face.

It should not turn her on. By all means, it doesn’t – not the mere act of following his orders, at least.

It’s just Gendry – Gendry, always so attentive to her, sweet in his own gruff way, _kind_ Gendry – giving in to the more dominant side of his nature, losing all the restrains in his desire for her… this is precisely what works for Arya, what has been working ever since the first time he restrained her and turned her into a mess with his mouth. Gendry is so deceptively quiet that nobody realizes it’s the silence before the storm.

And oh, how she loved to witness this storm, how special she felt to be the only one whom Gendry regards strong enough to withstand it.

She scoots forward towards him, pressing herself to his front and wrapping her arms around his neck. Her nails scratch his back slightly when she sighs into his ear the way he just did to her, only infinitely softer:

‘’Please, Gendry.’’

She kisses the corner of his jaw.

‘’Please, let me make it good for you.’’

Another peck lands on his Adam’s apple.

‘’You know how good I can make you feel.’’

She nips on his collarbones and makes sure to make everything light and gentle, to melt against him, to scratch without drawing blood.

She wants him to remember she could hide her fangs for him. Be loving for him.

_Only him, only him, only him, there’s never been anyone else but him._

Her fingers come back to his buttons, quick and nimble; this time, he does not stop her. Once she has his shirt unbuttoned all the way down, she gently pulls the material off his shoulders and comes back to kissing him, sweet nonsense escaping her mouth whenever it is not on his skin.

‘’Please, love.’’ She whispers into the hollow of his collarbone and he turns stiff against her. She does not even care. Her lips find his nipple, her hands trace the lines of his abs. ‘’Please, please let me have you in my mouth.’’

It’s easy, to slide from his lap to the floor, in-between his knees. To look up to him from underneath his lashes and see his dark, dark eyes, the blush on his face. There was never a place where she felt more powerful than like that.

Her hands rest on his thighs and he jumps a bit.

‘’Gendry-‘’

He cups her jaw and bends down to kiss her, faster and more desperate than before. All tongue and teeth, their noses and chins colliding painfully and Gendry biting on her lip hard enough to make it bleed and swell.

She’s properly breathless now. Almost dizzy, she pants heavily when he releases her for air.

‘’You can have it.’’ He brushes some hairs off her face. Her ponytail is probably absolutely ruined now, and it will make everything messier, but she cannot find the will to adjust it; not, if that means tearing her hands off Gendry. ‘’You can have whatever you want, Arya.’’

 _What are we even doing?_ – crosses her mind, when she tugs his zipper down and reaches for his cock. Her hand is moving automatically, caressing the length of it with just the perfect amount of pressure to make him moan. She presses a kiss to the tip and Gendry’s hand cup the back of her head. It’s all so familiar that she can barely comprehend it’s been more than a year since she last did it. _– What do we even hope to achieve with this?_

More heartbreak, more pain, more emptiness; all of that, and more waiting for her as soon as she leaves in the morning. But Arya has never been the one to let the worries about the future overshadow the joys of the present and so, she closes her eyes and takes Gendry’s cock deep in her mouth, bobbing her head up and down the moment it hits the back of her throat.

*

They met on the police station, which was probably the nail to the coffin of his attractiveness as a life partner for Arya in the eyes of her mother.

If he closes his eyes, he can recall how she looked like, sitting on the bench opposite to him. He can paint her in the tiniest details; her ruined mascara, her tangled hair, the fresh bruise blooming on her cheekbone. All it took was one look and he was gone, dead gone, when the rush of desire hit him like a lightning strike.

He has spent his whole life trying and failing to be good. But there’s no doubt that Arya – Arya and their tragic, broken relationship – is his biggest downfall, his biggest failure.

And his grandest reward.

She’s making those soft, wet noises when she’s sucking him off, driving his senses nuts. He closes his eyes and tries to slow down his breathing, and it’s a lost battle anyway. There’s no way of lasting when she’s so determined to ruin him.

It just feels _so fucking good,_ so painfully good almost. The warmth of her mouth, the plushness of her lips, the quick movements of her hands, the way strands of her hair tickle his skin. It’s heaven and hell and nothing in-between, only the extremes. Pure Arya.

And the fact that she knows exactly how he likes it doesn’t help at all, cause he can remember when they were just starting fooling around, how shy and awkward and sweet it all was. She was still in high school back then, and he was the guy for whom she would sneak out of her window at night.

The shyness, the awkwardness, the sweetness are gone. But hunger still burns deep in his belly when he pushes inside her mouth a bit too deep and she chokes slightly, her eyes snapping open to glance at him.

And he doesn’t even have to think about it before his fingers move in her hair, tugging on the strands delicately in an apology.

‘’Sorry, darling.’’ He murmurs and she just winks in response, doing some wonderful thing with her tongue that makes him clench his jaw painfully.

_What are we even doing?_

He doesn’t think he can bear to face the answer to this question.

She’s determined to get him off like that and he remembers that too – those games of dominance, this delicious push-and-pull of hands and lips and tongues, and to hell with him if he lets her undo him that easily.

The second she releases him for air, he cups her jaw, kissing her deeply to make her pant. He’s so hard that it physically hurts, tearing Arya’s warm, skilled mouth of his cock, truly. But, when he pulls her up on the bed, laying her down spread on the duvet again, he decides there are other kinds of satisfaction worth the discomfort.

 _I want her back._ – blares in his head as he discards his unbuttoned shirt and unzipped slacks. _Gods, I want to hear her scream my name and my name only. I want her back, gods forgive me._

She watches him undress in silence, silver eyes half-closed. A stray strand of hair sticks to her wet lips and he carefully brushes it away when he leans over her.

All the playful words they traded before disappear. She reaches up for him, rests both of her hands on his shoulders. He thinks he could get lost in this moment, drown in the sea of her eyes as she’s lying naked and trembling on his bed, this unexpected gift from heavens, the second chance he never knew he would get.

 _It’s just sex._ – he tries to convince himself, but he knows full well it stopped being _just sex –_ if it ever was – the moment the old endearment fell from his lips easier than her name.

Whatever they’re doing here…. He’s gonna make it last.

Slowly, he lets his hands wander.

He cups her cheeks and then slides down to her jaw, her neck; tracing her collarbones and the peaks of her breasts, smiling when she whimpers at the sensation. His palms caress the ladder of her ribs and the dip of her waist, moving on to the gentle curve of her hips.

The sheets make a swishing sound when he slides in-between her knees, but her gasp is far, far louder.

‘’Gendry.’’

He nuzzles his face against her belly, basking in the familiar juxtaposition of hard, lean muscles underneath her delicate skin.

‘’Arya.’’ He answers her call, smiling to her when he opens her legs wide, his fingers dancing across her inner thighs. She looks down at him with her lips parted.

‘’Gendry, I-‘’

Whatever she wanted to say turns into a whimper when he buries his face in her cunt.

He recalls the first time he did it to her – when she was seventeen and pretending to be one thousand times more confident than she was. He remembers perfectly how his hands were trembling when he was taking off her underwear. How he couldn’t make her come, had no idea _how to_ yet but she just ran her fingers through his hair as he was apologizing, all red.

( _Thank you._

_For what? You didn’t-_

_For making me feel beautiful)_

He’s in no hurry. He takes his sweet time tasting her, pinning her hips to the mattress whenever she squirms and urges him to speed up. His tongue lazily licks from her opening to the top of her slit, carefully avoiding all the more sensitive areas until she starts to pant earnestly. Then, and only then, he begins to suck on his clit, much like he sucked on her nipples before, rolling the little bud between his teeth very carefully not to hurt her. She tangles her fingers in his hair and he cannot help but smile against her skin at that.

His own fingers slip inside her, gently stretching her inner walls, feeling how they pulsate and contract.

‘’Gendry.’’ She moans again. His grip on his hair tightens. ‘’Please.’’

He taps her clit lightly with his tongue a few times.

‘’Gendry, fuck, I’m begging you-‘’

‘’What, darling?’’ he withdraws his fingers from her, tearing his mouth off her cunt to glance at her wetness covering his skin.

‘’Please, just, just fuck me already.’’

Her arched back, messed-up hair and those delicious, delicious lips-

He lays down on his side, parallel to Arya, and runs a finger along the line her jaw to caress her lower lip.

‘’Open up for me, darling.’’

Her eyes widen for a second before the realization dawns on her and her cheeks turn pink.

‘’Gendry, please-‘’

‘’Come on, Arya.’’

When he slips his fingers inside her mouth, letting her taste herself on his skin, he does not know which of them moans louder.

She hollows her cheeks, sucking the wetness off his fingers wickedly and he’s so transfixed on that, that he doesn’t even notice her hand sneaking down until she’s circling the tip of his cock delicately.

_Oh, that’s my Arya._

_‘’_ Fuck.’’ He curses loudly, his eyes almost rolling to the back of his skull when she twists her wrist expertly and uses her thumb to massage the crown.

‘’Yes, that’s right.’’ She beams at him sweetly. Her voice is so breathy and high-pitched that she barely sounds like herself. ‘’Fuck me, please.’’

It’s stronger than his will, this wild instinct to roll on top of her and kiss her, kiss her until they’re both dizzy, delirious, burning with want for each other.

*

The second the head of his cock pushes inside her, hot tears begin to stream down her face like a waterfall.

‘’Fuck, Arya.’’ There’s a panicked pitch in his voice when he tries to withdraw immediately. ‘’Did I hurt you? I’m sorry, oh fuck-‘’

She wraps her legs around his hips, pulling him down again before he can kneel on the mattress.

‘’No, no, I’m fine.’’ She chokes out.

She’s still crying because – because her body _remembers._

It remembers his weight, his shape, his size, his length. It remembers how it felt when he was moving inside her. He slipped inside her like in a well-worn glove and she cannot bear it.

It’s been a year, but it feels like a day, like an hour since they last laid just like this.

He hovers above her, all concerned, his thumb brushing her cheek. He looks young again, twenty-two, in a tent in Riverlands when her parents believed she was spending the summer with Shireen. 

_I love you._ She wants to scream, _I love you, don’t leave me again._

But she’s too scared that the moment those words drop from her lips, his eyes will turn hard as a marble and he won’t say it back.

So she says nothing. Shakes her head and puts one hand on the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss, while the other one sneaks between them once more, caressing his length, sliding the tip between her lips.

‘’Please, Gendry.’’ She whispers against his mouth.

He gives in with a deep sigh, pressing his hips forward to meet hers.

 _It’s just sex, it’s just a hook-up,_ but it isn’t; not with how he carefully pushes inside her with those long, deep thrusts, hitting all the right places to make her back arch.

It isn’t _just_ anything; not with how his forehead is nearly touching hers and with how their fingers lace when he pins her hands above her head.

It feels like coming home.

The tips of their noses brush when he leans down to kiss her. Soft and sweet, and completely at odds with his pace, faster and faster every time he slides into her. He swallows her whimpers but begins to grunt himself when she raises her hips to meet his thrusts halfway.

The drops of sweat drip from his brow on her face and they’re sharing the same air. She doesn’t think she has ever felt closer to anyone than she feels to Gendry right here, right now.

‘’Arya, Arya, Arya.’’ He moans her name like a litany; untangles his fingers from hers to caress her when they’re joined and she can barely see anything, barely think any coherent thoughts when pleasure twists deep in her belly, hot and heavy. ‘’Come on, darling, come on.’’

He moves his hand to her clit and, the very same second, his cock bumps again some perfect spot within her. Stars dance in front of her eyes and she’s sure she’s saying something, screaming or crying, bliss as blue as Gendry’s eyes coloring her vision. But she cannot hear herself, not a single word.

The only thing she’s hearing, as orgasm is wrecking through her, so good that almost painful, almost unbearable, is Gendry’s soft, broken _I love you_. He whispers it over and over again. Has his hands on her hips now, pulling them up for a better angle and rutting into her hard, but he’s gaze on her is anything but hard.

‘’I love you.’’

And although her mind is misty and her limbs feel impossibly heavy, she forces her eyes to stay open.

‘’Help me up, Gendry.’’

He furrows his brow in confusion, but obliges easily – reaches down to settle her on his lap, cursing quietly at the change of angle. She wraps her tired arms around his shoulders and rests her forehead against his.

For a heartbeat or two, they’re silent and still, until she exhales deeply.

‘’I love you too.’’ She whispers.

Wordlessly, he drops his head to bury his face in the crook of her neck when he begins to move again.

And when he spends himself inside her, the choked sound he makes sounds almost like a sob.

*

‘’So.’’ She whispers finally, after a minute or maybe an hour. ‘’You didn’t… move on?’’

‘’Do I look like I moved on? Jesus, Arya.’’ Gendry chuckles humorlessly and rests his forehead on her belly; like that, laying in-between her tights and soaking up her warmth, he has never been further from _over Arya Stark._ His lips find her navel and press to it, making her yelp.

‘’I haven’t. Moved on from you, that’s it.’’ She gently cards his sweaty hair with her fingers, scratching his scalp the way he loves.

There is a slight pause for a heartbeat or two and then her soft sigh echoes in the room, just barely louder than a whisper: ‘’I don’t think I ever will. I think you might be it for me, Gendry.’’

She sounds scared and resigned, and helpless as if admitting this truth cost her letting go of something precious.

He wonders if they’ve ever been so honest with each other when they were together, so raw. Somehow, he doubts it. There are certain things you just don’t say to your partner unless you want to lose them.

And one thing has remained consistent throughout the whole run of his relationship with Arya, romantic and platonic, and everything in-between – he has never wanted to lose her.

Her hand slides from his head to his forehead, his cheekbone. She caresses him so delicately that it makes his skin tingle.

She’s warmth and sweetness, and everything he has ever wanted, and if he’s about to let her break his heart again so be it, because he cannot imagine getting out of this bed and never tasting her again.

‘’I think you’re it for me too, Arya.’’ _I love you, I love you, I love you._

Her thigh underneath his palm, the side of his face nuzzling against her warm belly, the swells of her breasts, this unbearable heat of her.

 _The world is full of women, Gendry, you’ll fall in love again. –_ Mya said to him and poured him another drink and he wants to laugh when he thinks about it now.

There are no other women, not for him, not now nor ever.

He raises his head to look at her and her eyes melt into the softest, most watery shade of grey when he caresses the apple of her cheek just like she did to him.

The world is full of women.

And for him, there is Arya and Arya alone.

‘’We can fuck it up again. Probably will, to be honest.’’ She tries to sound stern and serious, but the mirth sparkling on her face betrays her feelings. ‘’I don’t think either of us changed much during this year.’’

_Fuck it. I’m never letting you go again, darling._

‘’That’s the risk I’m willing to take.’’

*

She wakes up when it’s still dark, in an unfamiliar bed, under the unfamiliar sheets.

But there is not even a second of panic, as the most familiar warmth is engulfing her.

And the most familiar heartbeat is soon lulling her back to sleep

**Author's Note:**

> Just a quick reminder - fic writers don't receive any kind of monetary compensation for their work. We write because we love doing that and we love those characters. If you enjoy our work, please motivate us by leaving comments. Even a few words can make somebody's day!


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